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I was two steps from the door when a servant's shrill voice called for me at the end of the hall.

Freezing in my steps, I turned my head and blinked at the sight of a woman—or, girl—tripping over her own two feet as she banked the nearest corner. I almost didn't approach, but as she struggled to get her dress unstuck from the sharp corner of a nearby table, I gave into the pity. It only took four long strides before I was standing near her, hand extended out to help her up.

She looked at it for a moment before carefully accepting it, her calloused fingers scraping against my palm. I kicked my foot on her dress to free it, and as soon as she was able to stand upright, she took a respectful step back. She didn't bow, but of course, she didn't need to.

I was not her queen.

"Venysa," she said. "My apologies. I had to catch you before you were off."

I drew my hands behind my back and simply nodded. "What is it, then?"

The girl cleared her throat and dusted some of the dirt from her skirt. "The king has requested your company for dinner."

I stilled, eyes widening at the mere size of that request. It didn't help that he'd said twelve worlds total to me today. "Why?" I breathed.

The girl stammered for her words, and it was then that I realized she wasn't given a reason. And, more than anything else, she was as surprised as I was. So I continued.

"I am in no state to attend a royal dinner," I said quietly and looked down at my borrowed clothes. Orios had few clothes to lend, so his tunic fit my torso loosely, as did the pants, and I looked like I was freshly ready to go beg on the street. "If he is willing to postpone—"

"He has strictly instructed me to avoid any sort of delay."

Clearing my throat, I took a heavy breath and nodded. "Fine, then. What was your name again?"

She blinked up at me before offering a small smile. "Heathyn. If you follow me, I can get you bathed and dressed."

"Right, then."

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The water was so warm, and whatever concoction Orios had mixed up earlier was working wonders. My knuckles were bruised, and every time I balled my fingers, the skin turned white. It wasn't even ten minutes before the rest of the servants were knocking on the door and rushing me out.

When I stood, the water sloshed onto the floor and I quickly put on a robe. Just as I cinched the bathrobe around my waist, the door sprung open and a bustling group of women approached. It was useless to protest, and the second they got their hands on me, they forced me to sit at the vanity and brushed my silver hair out of my face.

I carefully watched the girl tending to my hair, pursing my lips as her face contorted in a look of pain when she saw my ears. If I thought about it too long, I'd have to wince worse than she did. It was the most painful thing I had ever done to myself, but it was also the only way.

After they made my hair fall in loose curls, they turned me around and started to perfect the blemishes on my face. Heathyn was working rouge into my cheeks before her brown eyes paused to look at me.

"Your eyes," she whispered and blinked. As soon as the words escaped her lips, the elder servant smacked her upside the head. "Apologies, my lady."

I stifled a chuckle and dragged my fingers along the robe's sleeve. Some people had told me I looked blind with such gray, uniform eyes—others said they reminded them of the gloomy sky right before a rainstorm. I often feared they would be the reason I got caught and exposed for who I truly was, but few Dragonborne had the same irises as me. In fact, in my three hundred year rule before disappearing and starting anew, I never saw another soul with eyes like mine.

"It's alright," I whispered and offered a small smile. "My mother told me that my pupils were stolen by the storm when I was born."

Heathyn smiled at the story and dabbed the rouge onto my lips now. When she backed away, she gave a single nod of approval. Without another word the third servant pulled me to my feet and rushed me to the bedroom. Hanging on the armoire was a red gown. Golden vines stretched down both sides of it, and at the bottom floral patterns danced at the seam.

"That seems incredibly fancy for a dinner," I breathed. Unfortunately, this servant was far less chatty than Heathyn and grunted at me to put it on. Sighing through my nose, I nodded and moved behind a panel that hid me away from those prying eyes. The second I was out of their line of sight, they started whispering amongst each other.

My ears perked—and suddenly, their murmurs were as clear as day.

"What does the king want with her?" the eldest servant murmured. "She's a mess. I thought he had better taste than that."

"I think she's striking. Quite beautiful, actually," a more familiar voice responded. Heathyn.

"Sure, if you find the likes of a winter storm beautiful," the third woman chuckled. "Her ears are terribly mangled."

I frowned, grabbed the dress, and slipped into it after turning my ears away. I could hear better than most, but in times like this, I wished I was entirely deaf. When I stepped around the divider, I gave them my meanest glower.

The eldest straightened her posture, eyes widening at the sight of my anger, before quickly approaching and tightening the strings that lined the back. With each tug, I sucked in a breath and cursed at her.

Eyes turning to Heathyn, she offered a sympathetic smile, and then they led me out after I slipped on a pair of shoes.

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This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I had my head hung low as they escorted me down the winding corridors. Girls could be the meanest creatures, but now that no title bound me to the birthright of respect, I had no reason to expect kindness. Part of me relished in this—after all, it just meant I saw people for who they really were.

The walk was long, and when I turned my head to look out the passing windows, I caught sight of the winter storm that had blown in before nightfall. I had three hours of sunlight left, at most, and then Orios and I would be off. We had to travel before the sunset, else we'd fall victim to the creatures of the night.

And, with something as sensitive as this, I had little patience for explanations.

We turned left, and then a pair of guards opened the doors that led to the grand dining room. The oak table was lined with chairs—so many chairs—and two servants stood at opposite sides of the room with pitchers of liquid in their hands. At the head of the table sat Terren, his long hair let free of the ponytail, but was still drawn away from his angular face. There was far too much food, but it made my mouth water.

The servants kept onward after I entered the room. I was left standing at the doorway, nervously straightening the wrinkles in my gown before I was urged to seat at the closest end of the table. When I was nestled in, I allowed the man to pour me a glass of wine before lifting it to my lips.

When my gaze met him, he was twiddling a fork between his fingers and watching me intently. After an intentional nod, the servants exited the room and we were left alone.

"This is quite the feast," I said.

Terren shifted in his seat and rested the fork on the table. "Who raised you?"

I blinked, stammering for my words as my mouth went dry. "Have I done something to offend—"

"No," Terren said, smiling wildly. "I looked into your lineage, Venysa."

If my mouth was dry before, it was a wasteland now. "My lineage is difficult to explain."

"You're telling me," he chuckled and gestured for the food. When I did not move, he arched a brow and stood to his feet. His finger dragged against the long table as he neared, eventually stopping at the chicken and lifting the knife. "Were you an orphan?" he asked right before driving the knife into the white meat. I winced.

"Yes, of sorts," I whispered, drawing my hands to my lap to conceal the mild tremble.

He brought pieces of chicken that were lined down the blade, using my fork to slide it onto the plate before retreating to his side. "I trust you can serve yourself with any vegetables and bread that catch your eye... It's all for you, Venysa."

My eyes never left him, trailing him from the second he had neared to the moment he sat back down. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

He snickered. "Aren't you going to ask why I looked into you?"

I gazed down upon the food on my plate. Suddenly, my appetite was gone. "Honestly, I figured you already had."

"On the contrary. I cared little about you when my royal advisers informed me that they chose you as my mercenary."

"They chose me?"

"Indeed. I thought you'd be rather useless."

I drew the chalice of wine back to my lips, and silence overtook the long table. He stabbed a piece of red meat on his fork, took a bite, and chewed with a fiery look riddled in that stare.

"I looked into you because you seemed far too regal to be a huntress."

Straightening my posture, I reached over to the peas and served myself. "I should consider that a compliment, then."

He knew.

"The grandest type of compliment."

Oh, he really knew.

"I don't think that deserves a feast of this magnitude, King Terren. Especially since I have only delivered bad news today."

Terren's face twisted into a frown before taking a gulp of wine. "Poor fellow. His name was Nikolai, and he was a terrible guard."

I arched a brow after taking a bite of chicken. "Not a sour loss, then."

Terren grinned wide, a piece of meat stuck between his front teeth. "Those types of jokes are precisely the reason I thought you to be special."

Whatever piece of meat that I had been chewing turned gamey, and my cheeks flushed red. "What is the purpose of tonight?" I finally asked.

Terren wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth, and rid his teeth of that piece of meat using the tip of his knife. I watched in discomfort, gulping when he stood back to his feet and walked over to me. "Do you know how royal affairs work, Venysa?"

Yes, and better than he ever would. "Not particularly well."

"Well, we see things as an alliance. A chance to strengthen the odds, so to speak."

When I drew the chalice back to my lips, trying to focus on anything other than him, he tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth in protest. Part of me wanted to take this dinner knife and drive it through his throat at the rude sound, but I politely rested the cup down and folded my hands into my lap.

"Usually, that means uniting nations. But, our nearest kingdom is Kyria... and, well, we get enough snow as it is."

I simply blinked. My chest tightened, as did my airways, but I forced yet another nod. Obedience... kings wanted obedience.

Just as I did when I was queen.

Terren finally finished his agonizingly slow pace, leaning his lean body over the table and pressing the flats of his palms against it. His fingers were adorned with rings on each digit, the gems reflecting the candlelight above.

"I am offering you an out," he said. In fact, he said it so simply that it sounded like it was a proclamation rather than an agreement. "I am offering you marriage."

"A... what?" I whispered.

"Yes. Do you enjoy being a mercenary?"

I exhaled a shallow breath. "It allows me to be free."

"And do you fear your freedom would be lost with me?"

It was not just a fear... it was a given. This was no merciful king, and I was smart enough to know that he did not want an equal. He wanted a trophy. And, apparently, his taste tonight was mercenaries masked under a false identity.

"That is quite an offer, Your Majesty... I am not sure what to say."

I wanted to curse at him and tell him to shove the proposal right up his ass. Maybe carve his dark irises out and hang them on my mantel. It'd be the least impressive prize yet. Obedience, Nessira... he wants obedience.

"Do not say anything," he smiled and reached into his pocket. Before he retreated back to the other side of the table, he rested a box next to my plate. "Take as long as you need. But this would behoove you to accept... consider it an entrance to a different life."

Yes, the exact life I faked my death and killed thousands of my people to escape. With shaky hands, I wrapped my fingers around the box. Opening it revealed a glistening jewel nestled into the head of the ring, and although it was clear and radiant like a diamond, I knew it not to be. My breath hitched in my throat and I looked up at him.

"It's quite beautiful, I know."

"What is it?" I whispered.

He chewed his food a moment longer before clearing his throat. "A precious gem that was said to be lost centuries ago. One of my aids found it in town. A merchant said they struck a field of it."

I cleared my throat and closed the box. "Did they give it a name?"

"Fellow said it was something called... Zhanz... Zhanzinite? Strange name, but I had a historian look into it and saw it was worth a fortune."

I loosed my breath and smiled forcibly, biting my tongue to prevent any sort of outburst. "You really shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," he grinned. "Take as long as you need," he said, and then not a beat later, added, "I'd imagine the Winter Solstice is plenty of time?"

Three weeks. I had three weeks to find a way out... perhaps find another means of life in a different nation. Yes, that was a good idea—I could create a new name. Venysa was getting tiresome, anyway.

"Plenty of time," I breathed.

My heart ached at the thought of losing Orios. But, I was no fool, I knew what would happen if I turned down a king... if he did not fire me, he'd force me out in another way, and that way would most certainly cost me whatever reputation I had formed.

Something didn't add up, though. In fact, he had no name to find a lineage. He knew me as Venysa, and Venysa alone. I swallowed my drink, hard, and set the fork down with a trembling hand. "I am feeling unwell. I think it would be best to return this dress and get home before the storm gets worse."

Terren turned his head to the window and frowned. When I followed it, I noticed that any flurries that had existed before the meal no longer drifted through the air. And, to make matters worse, the sky was clearing of any clouds.

"Keep the dress," he said. "It was crafted for you."

I stood to my feet at his dismissal, the ring's box in hand, and exited the room with haste. When I got outside, Orios was already by the fountain that we agreed to meet at. He stared in utter disbelief at my attire.

"If you didn't like the tunic I loaned you, you could have told me," he said impishly.

I scowled and walked past him. "Go get another set. I am certain those servants burned the original pair the second they saw me in them."